Tom Threadgill's Blog
May 5, 2022
I wrote a poem. It rhymes. That's about all I can say about it.
The unpacking continues as we get settled into our new home. To commemorate (commiserate?) the occasion, I wrote a poem. A long poem.
My apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
‘Twas two weeks after moving, and all through the house,
Sat unopened boxes. I started to grouse.
“I can’t find anything,” I said. “There’s stuff here and there.
And I’m pretty much out of underwear.”
My wife was all frazzled and growing grim,
“Quit yer whining,” she said. “Are you really that dim?
We’ve moved many times, it’s never been fun,
But do a little each day and then we’ll be done.”
I did my best to smile but I simply could not,
I said, “You’re right, dear.” But that’s not what I thought.
My anger was high and my patience was fleeting,
I was certain each night that the boxes were breeding.
The worst was the kitchen, too many plates and glasses,
All this unpacking is really busting our rear ends.
Three sets of Christmas dishes? What’s that about?
My mood sank again. I started to pout.
A dropped box of cooking utensils made such a clatter,
My wife sprang from her office to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen she flew like a flash,
“What in the world was that deafening crash?”
“No big deal,” I said. “Nothing was broken.”
“I wasn’t sure,” she replied, “based on the words I heard spoken.”
“Yeah, that’s on me,” I said. “A bit of profanity,
But at this point it’s all that’s saving my sanity.”
I whistled and shouted and called them by name,
A blender, a mixer, a toaster and oven mitts,
Some pots, some pans, I was falling to bits.
To the top of the cabinet, the bottom of the drawer,
Go away! Go away! There can’t be much more.
But after a while, things began to improve.
Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad move.
The mountains of cartons were decidedly less,
But where my underwear was, I still had no guess.
The end was in sight, I began to have hope,
I’d make it through this, I’d learned how to cope.
And then my wife said, “But don’t forget, hon,
There’s stuff to assemble before we’ll be done.
Put these things together, but first read the manuals.”
“I can do that if you’ll get more Jack Daniels.”
She spoke not a word, but went back to her work,
Okay. Maybe she spoke. She called me a jerk.
I sprang to my shop, I needed a ladder,
A screwdriver, a hammer, I began to grow sadder.
I hate hanging curtains, pictures, and blinds,
And when it comes to decor, we have all kinds.
I had to admit that when I had it all hung (hanged?),
It looked very nice, I was glad it was brung (branged?).
Our home, like this poem, is nearly complete,
I hope you’ll agree, it’s been quite a feat.
And congrats to Perrianne, Jackie, and Lorrie,
They were the winners of last month’s free story.
If you’d like to win a free paperback book,
Click on this link. See? That’s all that it took.
You can have whichever novel you choose,
Something something something booze.
If you enjoyed my poem, you might like my books,
They’re nothing alike but click here to take looks.
This one’s on sale for ninety-nine cents,
It's got great reviews, ladies and gents.
Oh, one last thing before I let you go,
There’s something else you need to know.
I’ve got to make another Walmart run.
We’re not really finished. Not really quite done.
My wife heard me exclaim, as I drove to the store,
"I never did find them. I’ve got no more."
Horror on her face. “Are you saying . . . oh no!”
“’Tis true, my dear. I’ve gone commando.”
My apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
‘Twas two weeks after moving, and all through the house,
Sat unopened boxes. I started to grouse.
“I can’t find anything,” I said. “There’s stuff here and there.
And I’m pretty much out of underwear.”
My wife was all frazzled and growing grim,
“Quit yer whining,” she said. “Are you really that dim?
We’ve moved many times, it’s never been fun,
But do a little each day and then we’ll be done.”
I did my best to smile but I simply could not,
I said, “You’re right, dear.” But that’s not what I thought.
My anger was high and my patience was fleeting,
I was certain each night that the boxes were breeding.
The worst was the kitchen, too many plates and glasses,
All this unpacking is really busting our rear ends.
Three sets of Christmas dishes? What’s that about?
My mood sank again. I started to pout.
A dropped box of cooking utensils made such a clatter,
My wife sprang from her office to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen she flew like a flash,
“What in the world was that deafening crash?”
“No big deal,” I said. “Nothing was broken.”
“I wasn’t sure,” she replied, “based on the words I heard spoken.”
“Yeah, that’s on me,” I said. “A bit of profanity,
But at this point it’s all that’s saving my sanity.”
I whistled and shouted and called them by name,
A blender, a mixer, a toaster and oven mitts,
Some pots, some pans, I was falling to bits.
To the top of the cabinet, the bottom of the drawer,
Go away! Go away! There can’t be much more.
But after a while, things began to improve.
Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad move.
The mountains of cartons were decidedly less,
But where my underwear was, I still had no guess.
The end was in sight, I began to have hope,
I’d make it through this, I’d learned how to cope.
And then my wife said, “But don’t forget, hon,
There’s stuff to assemble before we’ll be done.
Put these things together, but first read the manuals.”
“I can do that if you’ll get more Jack Daniels.”
She spoke not a word, but went back to her work,
Okay. Maybe she spoke. She called me a jerk.
I sprang to my shop, I needed a ladder,
A screwdriver, a hammer, I began to grow sadder.
I hate hanging curtains, pictures, and blinds,
And when it comes to decor, we have all kinds.
I had to admit that when I had it all hung (hanged?),
It looked very nice, I was glad it was brung (branged?).
Our home, like this poem, is nearly complete,
I hope you’ll agree, it’s been quite a feat.
And congrats to Perrianne, Jackie, and Lorrie,
They were the winners of last month’s free story.
If you’d like to win a free paperback book,
Click on this link. See? That’s all that it took.
You can have whichever novel you choose,
Something something something booze.
If you enjoyed my poem, you might like my books,
They’re nothing alike but click here to take looks.
This one’s on sale for ninety-nine cents,
It's got great reviews, ladies and gents.
Oh, one last thing before I let you go,
There’s something else you need to know.
I’ve got to make another Walmart run.
We’re not really finished. Not really quite done.
My wife heard me exclaim, as I drove to the store,
"I never did find them. I’ve got no more."
Horror on her face. “Are you saying . . . oh no!”
“’Tis true, my dear. I’ve gone commando.”
February 10, 2022
Some of my books are gone. Oh no!
Let's cut to the chase.
Did you know the phrase "cut to the chase" originated in the film industry way back when? When directors made their movies too long, the studio boss would insist they get to the action, which was usually a climatic chase scene. Hence, get rid fid of all the fluff and "cut to the chase." And yes, I'm aware of the irony that arises when I digress to explain the origin of the idiom. (As I reread that sentence, I realized it makes me sound a lot smarter than I really am.)
Anyhow, my three Jeremy Winter novels are currently not available (except in audio versions). Long story short, the rights to the novels have been reverted to me from the publisher. That's a good thing.
The books will be available again in about three months, most likely with new covers. If you have the old versions in paperback, you have collector's items! They're probably worth, uh, yeah. Remember Beanie Babies? Don't cash out your 401k just yet.
The good news is that if you want to get your hands on copies between now and when they're back on Amazon, I've got a few available. I'll even autograph them if you don't mind the value decreasing. If you want to purchase some, let me know. And I'll be giving some away too, so keep an eye out.
"Keep an eye out." I'm afraid to research the origin of that one. Probably pirates or something. Whatcha think?
Until next time, stay safe. Keep reading. And if you live in northeast Tennessee, keep an eye out for me. We're moving up your way soon and I'd love to meet you!
Did you know the phrase "cut to the chase" originated in the film industry way back when? When directors made their movies too long, the studio boss would insist they get to the action, which was usually a climatic chase scene. Hence, get rid fid of all the fluff and "cut to the chase." And yes, I'm aware of the irony that arises when I digress to explain the origin of the idiom. (As I reread that sentence, I realized it makes me sound a lot smarter than I really am.)
Anyhow, my three Jeremy Winter novels are currently not available (except in audio versions). Long story short, the rights to the novels have been reverted to me from the publisher. That's a good thing.
The books will be available again in about three months, most likely with new covers. If you have the old versions in paperback, you have collector's items! They're probably worth, uh, yeah. Remember Beanie Babies? Don't cash out your 401k just yet.
The good news is that if you want to get your hands on copies between now and when they're back on Amazon, I've got a few available. I'll even autograph them if you don't mind the value decreasing. If you want to purchase some, let me know. And I'll be giving some away too, so keep an eye out.
"Keep an eye out." I'm afraid to research the origin of that one. Probably pirates or something. Whatcha think?
Until next time, stay safe. Keep reading. And if you live in northeast Tennessee, keep an eye out for me. We're moving up your way soon and I'd love to meet you!
October 24, 2021
The One with TMI
It’s the tissues, okay? That’s what gets me.
Listen, before I get too far into this, I have to issue a TMI warning. That’s “too much information” for those falling behind on the flood of abbreviations we’re deluged with these days. TMI. I’m about to overshare. Stop now if talk of body functions (done subtly, or at least without too much gross stuff) bothers you.
This past year has physically been the most challenging of my life. I’ve been poked, prodded, sliced, stitched, and shuffled in pretty much every possible area between my neck and just below my, um, crotchular region. I didn’t look up “crotchular,” so it’s likely not a word because there’s a squiggly red line under it as I write this, but we can all agree it should be added to the dictionary. If "decarceration" and "adulting" can make it in, why not crotchular?
Anyhoo, as I said, it’s been a rough year. I’ve met more physicians and specialists than I ever wanted to. At this point in my life, I choose my doctors based on three specific criteria:
**************
Want to read the rest? AND have a chance to win your choice of all three of the Jeremy Winter novels or both of the Amara Alvarez novels? Click over to my website and subscribe to my (sometimes) monthly emails. The one with TMI comes out soon (any bets on whether I gain or lose more subscribers?). You'll also get a free download of a short story that may or may not have anything to do with the book I'm working on now. How's that for a tease?
https://www.tomthreadgill.com
Listen, before I get too far into this, I have to issue a TMI warning. That’s “too much information” for those falling behind on the flood of abbreviations we’re deluged with these days. TMI. I’m about to overshare. Stop now if talk of body functions (done subtly, or at least without too much gross stuff) bothers you.
This past year has physically been the most challenging of my life. I’ve been poked, prodded, sliced, stitched, and shuffled in pretty much every possible area between my neck and just below my, um, crotchular region. I didn’t look up “crotchular,” so it’s likely not a word because there’s a squiggly red line under it as I write this, but we can all agree it should be added to the dictionary. If "decarceration" and "adulting" can make it in, why not crotchular?
Anyhoo, as I said, it’s been a rough year. I’ve met more physicians and specialists than I ever wanted to. At this point in my life, I choose my doctors based on three specific criteria:
**************
Want to read the rest? AND have a chance to win your choice of all three of the Jeremy Winter novels or both of the Amara Alvarez novels? Click over to my website and subscribe to my (sometimes) monthly emails. The one with TMI comes out soon (any bets on whether I gain or lose more subscribers?). You'll also get a free download of a short story that may or may not have anything to do with the book I'm working on now. How's that for a tease?
https://www.tomthreadgill.com
